


The Siege of Paris

by ODeorainFan2150



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Give Gerard more backstory!, I may have read too much World War Z, Military, Omnic Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ODeorainFan2150/pseuds/ODeorainFan2150
Summary: Gérard Lacroix prepares for a special mission into the tunnels under Paris at the height of the Omnic Crisis.





	The Siege of Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Something a little different from my usual releases.
> 
> With all this talk of Paris after the new map reveal, I kept thinking about what Omnic Crisis Paris would have been like. And then I remembered the catacombs...
> 
> Also, I think Gérard deserves more backstory, don't you?

“Now you see, you have to be careful when reducing the stew. Not too fast, not too slow. You want to keep some liquid in there but not so much that it just turns your bread to paste.”

Gérard sighed, rubbing his eyes with his worn gloves before smoothing over his moustache. He was tired and muddy, a long woollen greatcoat protecting his dark blue fatigues from the grime of the encampment. Carefully, he propped himself up on his camp bed, watching his teammate cooking over the stove in a pitted metal pot.

“Please Matty, don't refer to whatever you are cooking as a stew. It's gruel.” Gérard leaned over to look into the pot, wrinkling his nose up at the smell “With things floating in it. I do not want to know what they are.”

Before Matty could respond to the insult to his craft, the pair were interrupted by the tent flap opening. The darkness inside suddenly was lit by a pale grey light, the early morning sun struggling to burn through the fog that hid the surrounding buildings from sight. A figure came in from the outside, taking a few steps before kneeling to the burner in the middle of the floor. The runner warmed his hands for a moment, rubbing his gloves together as he turned to the pair of them.

“Captain Lacroix, Corporal Petan. Boss needs you both up at the Command centre. Now.”

"It's Sergent now, Philippe. I'm not a Captain anymore" Gérard said sadly, stepping off his bed to join the pair around the burner.

“Does the Boss want us with kit? Or is this just a social visit?” Matty asked, a few lumps of gruel falling off his spoon and back into the pot. They bobbed up and down for a little bit before eventually sinking beneath the pale surface.

The runner shrugged as he rubbed his hands together. “Fucked if I know. I just pass on what he tells me.” He started to stand, nodding to the pair as he backed away towards the tent flap "But whatever it is, he wants you over there quick."

Leaving Matty to finish his culinary experiment over the stove, Gérard, raced after the runner, his coat flapping around in the cold morning air as he went. He caught up to him a few tents over. “Hey, Philippe, did we hear anything about Lauren?”

The runner turned round to face him, his soft brown eyes suddenly filled with emotion, the tiredness that was the norm deepening with it “Medical got her to Val-de-Grâce, but it didn't sound good. Even if she lives, she's lost the arm and probably an eye.” He tapped Gérard on the shoulder. "Sorry Captain, I wish I could tell you more. Should be able to get you an update this evening though when we get the end of day casualty summary." 

As Phillipe ran off, Gérard could do nothing more than think about Lauren. She had been a smiling girl from Caen, an impeccable scout more used to the trees than the tunnels. But even in the dark, her eyesight had saved them plenty of times. Such as with the Slicer, shouting out a warning just before Matty had crossed its beam. It was a shame she hadn't been luckier. What a waste.

His pace was slow as he walked back to his tent, stepping through the mud churned up by the passage of hundreds of boots. Pausing across the road from his tent, he looked up as a green armoured vehicle sped past, it's turret decorated with the stars and stripes, repulsors kicking up a thin sheet of soil in its wake. Some of it landed on Gérard's coat, darkening the grey even further. Angrily, he flung up a hand at the speeding vehicle, a pointless gesture but one that helped him get some of the irritation out of his system. Eventually, though, he bowed under the tent flap, rejoining Matty around the warm heat source.

“Looks like the Americans have finally arrived,” he said bitterly, shaking off the mud that had started clinging to his greatcoat.

“If that is the case, maybe we should get the good stuff out to barter with” Matty responded as he turned back to face him, a ceramic mug gently steaming in one hand, a piece of unleavened bread in the other. With a smile he passed them over, leaving Gérard to eat while he gathered their equipment.

Gérard eyed the grey broth with concern, his mind focused on other things. “Or maybe their mere presence will make the omnics run away, like in an old movie. Cavalry riding in at the last moment, as usual.” He responded sarcastically. 

Cautiously, he broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into the thick broth, the grey liquid soaking into the dense, crunchy lump of carbohydrates. After tasting the stew, he paused, smacking his lips with a frown on his face. “Corporal Petan. Where the hell did you get enough mushrooms to make this? And for that matter..." he took another bite of the soaked bread, letting the flavours play around in his mouth. "Did you add truffles to this? Have you found a secret fresh market that is still intact and stocking ingredients?”

Matty laughed.

“Well someone has changed their thoughts on my cooking. Also, come on Gérard, I thought an intelligence officer would know never to divulge his sources”. He lifted up both his and Gérard’s equipment, heading out the tent with them and leading the way towards the HQ building. Lacroix followed, concentrating on devouring the rations in his hands while making sure he didn't trip in the mud.

They carried on walking in silence for a while, Matty shifting his custom ballistic shield on his back. Eventually, he broke the silence, continuing their earlier conversation with a thoughtful tone. 

“Although I'm starting to think you're not an intelligence officer. After all, they would have been smart, found themselves a nice cushy office deployment. Not ending up sewer diving with a banlieue rat like me.”

Gérard finished chewing his bread, enjoying the last taste of his rich breakfast, the mushroom and truffle taste still sat on his lips. 

“True, I could have ended up at Bordeaux or Calais," He said, watching his friend as they walked "But then, when I shuffled off this mortal coil, I'd have had to explain to your dearly missed mother that I let her little Matty go into those tunnels without me. And we both remember how that went the last time I did it. My backside stung for a week.”

The two men chuckled as they continued tramping through the mud, memories of childish things lightning the day as the constant activity of the camp around them continued.

\--

“Come in.” The voice said through the door, a clipped tone that cut through the quiet of the command building.

Gérard stepped through the doorway into the Boss's office. It was spartan, functional, nothing that couldn't be packed up in five minutes before being shoved onto a cargo pallet and then thrown out of a dropship. The first time Gérard had been here, he guessed the Boss was a paratrooper, even before he'd turned around to reveal his jump wings, shining on his uniform with three stars underneath.

Today, the Boss was standing around the holographic table, a map of the catacombs displayed in sharp relief. He looked tired, his cropped grey hair harshly lit by the blue light in front of him. His uniform looked like it was the same one he'd worn the last time Gérard had been here, those worn eyes resigned as he'd torn the rank slides from this coat. Today, they were focused, businesslike. Always a good sign that a mission was in the making.

Surprisingly, there were three others with him. Gérard's eyes bounced between them drinking in all the details. He was first drawn to the woman, leaning forward onto the table. Her blue armour and coat was a contrast to her olive skin and dark hair. Her manner screamed special forces, a quiet confidence around the way she stood or how she fixed him with a glare as he entered. She had an unusual tattoo under her eye, a Wadjet, that immediately identified her, bringing back the news reports coming from Cairo that he had studied. Codename Horus, or Captain Ana Amari.

Then there was the other two, almost mirrors of each other. Although both were tall and well built, the one standing by the map looked like the poster boy from a recruitment film. The other, leaning against the wall in the shadows, looked like the one who actually did all the work, up to his chest in the mud. He'd seen this pair in some footage from the operations in New York, American Special Forces advising the regular troops. From his sources abroad, the Americans had spirited most of them away for some new project. The pieces in his mind started to click into place, his eyes flashing to their uniforms again.

The Boss smiled when he saw who had entered. “Ah, it's you. Everyone this is Captain…" He paused before correcting himself. "Sorry Sergeant Lacroix. A graduate of our counter-terrorism schools, a veteran of operations with GIGN before joining DGSI, now my best tunnel hound. He's the man you need for this mission, especially as he comes with a squad that's just itching to get back down there and give these metal assholes a piece of their mind.”

“Gérard, these are the new players in our little show…” the Boss started, but then Gérard interrupted.

“Captain Amari of the Egyptian Army, Commander Reyes and Commander Morrison from the United States Special Operations Command. Although the choice of blue for your uniforms and the logo on your arm tells me that the UN has finally pulled its finger out of its ass and signed off the formation of a multinational security force. Or, to use its proper name, Overwatch.” He paused looking back at his superior. "I'm guessing I'm correct, sir?"

For a moment, there was silence. Amari and Morrison looked at each other, apparently shocked that an ordinary soldier even knew about the existence of Overwatch, let alone be able to recognise it. 

"He's a sharp one isn't he." Reyes chuckled from the back wall. Stepping forward into the light, Gérard could see him more clearly now. Something was intimidating about him, reminding Gérard of the interrogators he had met when on his counter-terrorism work. The way he held himself, how he clenched his fists as he walked. This was a man with no qualms about pushing people to their limits to achieve his objectives.

The Boss smiled, his stressed face cracking up for what looked like the first time in days. "I see your current administrative issues haven't dulled your arrogance Lacroix."

Captain Amari spoke up, still resting on the edge of the table "As much as I enjoy this little chat, it doesn't matter what he knows about Overwatch." Her voice was something musical, her accent playing over the words. A combination of silk and steel, determination and gentle laughter. Part of him knew he'd need to talk to her later, perhaps get to know her more once the mission was over. "The real matter is if he knows where we need to get to in the catacombs and if he can help us get there."

The Boss nodded at this, waving Lacroix forward to join them at the table. After a few taps, a red dot had appeared, hanging in midair.

"Sensors have picked up unusual activity in this region of the under-city, just under the Lycée Montaigne. Now, previous raids into this area have run into serious defences, but these were all full on assaults, multiple unit actions coming in from multiple positions which the omnics must have spotted. Overwatch, however, wants to try running a smaller op to get in there."

Gérard looked up at his superior. "How many we talking for this op? And how much of a fight are we getting into?"

The Boss responded. "Your squad to lead the way, dropping down to a smaller group to infiltrate the stronghold itself. And ideally, no fighting."

Reyes leaned forward again, his scarred face coming into the light entirely. "We want to leave them a little gift."

Gérard met his gaze "And you'd prefer to keep it a secret until their party?"

The Commander smiled back at him. "Exactly."

Gérard looked back to the graph, running his fingers down the tunnel network. The maps were based on pre-war data, and even that was incomplete, the loose earth continually shifting as the battles raged. His mind dredged up the last time he'd been in that area, trying to fill in any gaps. Eventually, his fingers came to rest over an open space in the diagram.

"There is a small side pathway here. Can't fit through it in full armour but light kit and a small team should be able to sneak through here. From there, they can provide cover for the infiltrators."

Morrison nodded. "And you can get us down there? We might need one or two of you to join us in the cavern as backup."

"I will join you in the cavern. And don't worry Commander," Gérard smiled "I'm sure it will be a walk in the park."

\--

Gérard could hear the talking behind him as he led the way towards the tunnel entrance. He strained his ears, trying to pick out a specific conversation. Ana and Morrison were speaking quickly in Arabic, far too fast for his limited skills to understand. Matty had ended up next to Commander Reyes, the tall muscle bound super soldier in well-fitting fatigues a contrast to the small and squat Frenchman laden down with his patched and repaired combat uniform.

"So, Matty was it?" Reyes asked, a casual tone to his voice. "Want to explain why everyone keeps calling your squad leader Captain? I only see NCO stripes on his shoulder."

Matty soon responded, his voice slightly breathless trying to keep pace with the longer legged soldier next to him. "I don't know, Commander, gossiping about a superior seems like a bad idea. Especially if there is no payment on the table."

There was a chuckle before Reyes answered: "What did you have in mind?"

The Frenchman replied without a thought. "Meal, Ready to Eat, Individual Menu #23."

"I'm sorry, did you just ask me for an MRE?" Reyes answered, a confused tone to his voice. "A specific MRE no less."

Gérard could almost hear Matty shrug "Hey, sometimes you find gold among pigshit. Your country managed to make pizza last for far too long, I at least want to taste how much of a mess they made of it."

There was a pause. "Okay deal." Reyes eventually answered, his tone still faintly amused.

Matty quietened down slightly, whispering conspiratorially to the taller Commander.

"Let's just say Captain Lacroix was slightly displeased about some wet behind the ears officer deciding to leave a team down in the dark and lock the access point under the pretence of 'keeping the base safe'. More like covering his own ass after overextending his security. Anyway, Captain Lacroix may have shown his displeasure by putting a round through said officer's kneecap when he returned topside. And then kicking it a few times to make sure the message got remembered."

"And they didn't lock him up?" the Commander asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"We're running out of good officers as it is sir. You really think The Boss is going to bin someone over an injury that could be explained away as something from combat? The little weasel got sent home with a citation, and Gérard got busted back to being an NCO."

"That's enough Matty." Gérard finally interrupted, raising his voice "Let's focus on what you're paid to do rather than gossiping like old ladies?"

The group quietened down, stomping through the mud as they headed on to their date with destiny.

\--

The tunnel entrance had initially been a small shaft used for maintenance, capped over by a grid. As the war had advanced though, it soon became much more of a complex. The access to the tunnels was now pressure locked (required after the Omnics had flooded the underground with nerve gas) and teams had equipment rooms where they could grab their specialist equipment needed for the mission ahead.

When Gérard arrived, the rest of his squad was already getting sorted, pulling on the chest armour and helmets as well as checking each other's respirators and chemical suits. He smiled to see them so organised, all ready for action. The only thing that affected his mood poorly was seeing Lauren's locker, her name still stencilled onto it. That would be a job when he returned, making sure her belongings went to the hospital or back to Caen, depending on who needed them more.

Shaking off the melancholy, he went over to his own locker. With a click, he opened it, revealing his carefully selected pile of equipment. He removed his coat, hanging it on the rack. Then, taking care not to damage the seals, he stepped into his oversuit, protection against the stinking cocktail that brewed in the sewers. His body armour was next, two light armoured plates under a collection of pouches and pockets for everything he'd need. He pulled his revolver from its chest mount, checking the chamber and the cylinders before replacing it in its ready location. Finally, he grabbed his mask and helmet from the pile, clipping it to his belt. The whole process felt like clockwork by now, one side effect of doing the same thing every day. 

Matty was next to him doing the same. They turned to each other once they were finished so they could perform buddy checks. Gloved hands checked hoses weren't tangled and pouches closed correctly. Once done, Matty smiled, hoisted his shield onto his arm and moved to arrange the rest of the team.

In the meantime, someone from Logistics had delivered three shiny silver and blue boxes, each with a name engraved into them. The three Overwatch members walked across to them, opening them up. Gérard watched as they got ready, pulling the latest in breathing apparatus and armour out, a far cry from the collection of well-used items his team were wearing.

Gérard joined them, talking quietly. "Lady and gentlemen, this is how this is going to work. When you're separate from the team, you'll run the show, and we'll provide support. But from entering the tunnel until that point, you are in our house, so you follow our rules. Move when we move, stop when we stop, okay?" The three of them nodded, Reyes rolling his eyes.

Gérard continued. "Second, kit. Although they are very fashionable, your long coats will drag you down if you get caught on something, so they stay here. No loose items waiting to fall off unless you want to ring the dinner bell. If you care about it, don't take it down there. Letters from home, rings, necklaces, don't care. If you can't live without it, leave it here locked in your box." 

This prompted a flourish of activity amongst the trio. A flash of gold caught Gérard's eye, Ana rolling a wedding ring off her finger and placing it inside a secure compartment in her case.

He kept looking at her as she hefted a long rifle from its case, her gloved hand running over the polymer shell before adjusting the optical sight. 

"Okay, that's definitely staying here," Gérard interjected, placing one of his hands on the barrel.

She scowled at him. "Are you giving me an order sergent? I appreciate the advice, but there is always use for a marksman."

"Look, I mean no disrespect and I'm sure you're an expert with it, but the catacombs are not the slums of Cairo. They are dark and close. You'd be banging it off the walls as you moved and once something found us you wouldn't have enough time to bring it on target." Gérard turned and grabbed one of the silenced submachine guns off the wall, picking up a full magazine belt at the same time. 

"This will be more useful. We build them for fighting down here. My entire team have them and have used them effectively for as long as we've been deployed here" Gérard added.

Captain Amari took the offered carbine in her hands, the edge of her lip pulling back slightly as she felt the crudely manufactured in her hands. Chipped painted metal and poorly made plastic sat her gloved fingers. She brought it up to her shoulder, looking down the sights and over the suppressor for a moment, a disbelieving look on her face.

"Indulge the man, Ana," Morrison said, staring at her as he pulled one of the weapons off the wall, the small metal frame looking like a toy in his hand. "We're on his home turf, he knows what works" Those blue eyes turned to back to him "Anything else we need to be aware of Mr Lacroix?"

" 'Gas gas gas' means masks on, three taps on your head is mask off" Gérard smiled "But apart from that, enjoy exploring the ancient catacombs of Paris. Hopefully one day you can come back when it isn't full of omnics looking for fleshy thing to murder."

He left them to finish their preparations as he worked his way through his own team. He remembered all of them, the way they hung their gear, the little mental blocks they needed clearing before each operation. Eventually, he made his way to the front, finishing with the grinning Matty, resting himself on the metal shield in front of him.

Standing in front of his assembled team, Gérard jumped up on an ammo crate and addressed them.

"Listen up. You've all been briefed on today's operation. You all know what the mission is. But remember the ongoing mission. We're not here to be nice, to listen to the Omnic's problems. We're here to beat them back. So, if the stealth all goes to hell, remember what you are fighting for and make it quick and brutal. Are we ready to go to battle?"

His team yelled back at him, their plasti-glass facemasks dulling the noise slightly. The three Overwatch agents remained silent, just watching as the rest of the team psyched themselves up for the task ahead.

Gérard shouted to the gate guards, just before the pressure door sealed.

"Friendlies, going down!"

\-- 

"Friendlies, coming out!"

The harsh daylight shined back down the tunnel as Gérard pulled himself back up the slope, Matty's injured form alongside him. His buddy was struggling, one ripped and torn arm hanging uselessly by his side as he struggled to put one step in front of the other.

"Come on Matty, almost there." Gérard grimaced, pulling his friend up the incline.

"You've been saying that for the past five minutes Captain. Say it again and I'm going to strangle you" Matty answered through gritted teeth, the slow drip of blood on stone echoing through the tunnel.

Before Gérard could answer, he suddenly felt the load on him lighten. He looked over to see Ana had joined them, her shoulder taking Matty's weight while her hands started interacting with a medical kit hanging off her vest.

"How do you intend to do that Corporal with only one working hand?" she answered, a hint of dry humour in her voice. She smiled back at Gérard "Your team did well Sergent. You should be proud of that."

Matty snorted "Ha, you hear that Gérard? I think she likes you." He turned to look at her "You should give him give him a try _mademoiselle_ , he loves a woman with a careful eye and a steady aim."

Behind them, the cave echoed with the steady THUMP-THUMP of Commander Reyes's shotguns spitting their payloads at the pursuing enemies, the higher pitched whine of the SMGs adding an extra tone to the orchestra. His radio net was filled with accurate calm responses, his squad falling back perfectly, their mission complete.

When they reached the top, Medical was waiting for them. Matty would be making a trip to Val-de-Grâce.

\--

They found him as he sat there in the equipment room an hour later, still wearing his body armour and just sitting still, enjoying some peace and quiet. All three of them had entered, changed back into their blue uniforms. However, it was Morrison that spoke.

"Mr Lacroix. We have an offer you might be interested in. A more global use of your skillset."

Gérard looked up from his bench, Matty's helmet still in his hands. His eyes focused on them. The three of them did look like heroes, sleek uniforms a contrast to the grey and mud he was wearing.

Tired, he smiled. "Thank you for the offer, but I must decline at present."

He looked back down at the helmet, running his fingers over the scratches and cuts, some of which could be barely seen. He felt the same way, tired and bruised but still ready for the fight.

He caught Morrison's eye before he explained. "I don't like to leave an unfinished job Commander. It's a little point of pride for me - provide me with a task and nothing will stop me from achieving it."

Gérard chuckled. "Well, almost nothing. After all, death does have a certain finality to it, don't you think?"

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this work, I love hearing your comments - I'll always try and respond! Alternatively, drop me an email at odeorainfan2150@gmail.com
> 
> Follow me on twitter at https://twitter.com/deorainfan2150 for news on what I'm working on next.
> 
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